


Declassify

by hollybennett123



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, Clothed Sex, D/s (light undertones), Dirty Talk, FaceFucking, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-06
Packaged: 2018-04-13 08:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4514469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollybennett123/pseuds/hollybennett123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Harry says mildly, hint of humour just under the surface, and doesn’t bother to clarify whether he’s commenting upon Eggsy’s reference to himself as </i>a bit of rough<i> or denying the accusation. “Though admittedly,” he continues, unbuttoning his suit jacket, “there are arguably numerous activities which one may better enjoy rough.”</i></p><p>(Harry possibly has a thing for bad boys, Eggsy definitely enjoys hotwiring cars for a bit of backseat non-work based socialising)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Declassify

**Author's Note:**

> I thought I'd refresh my mind a bit by dipping my toes in a new fandom, so here I am, late to the party as usual! Since buying the DVD of Kingsman a few weeks ago (purely due to seeing various Hartwin-related things on tumblr and fancying in on the action) I've thoroughly enjoyed reading numerous amazing fics and ended up unable to resist writing a bit too. Being the slowest writer in the world, this took a while but was a lot of fun :)
> 
> This fic is dedicated to my love of tracksuits (I'm wearing one right now), my working class upbringing (even if, like Eggsy, my tracksuit collection now shares wardrobe space with some lovely suits) and also my sexual attraction to Eggsy's perfect eyebrows which I just don't think are talked about enough.
> 
> (Note: This fic contains references to barebacking and to rough sex and it should be presumed that these things have been previously negotiated and agreed upon between participants. Be safe and have fun and all that!)

Harry arrives home an entire hour earlier than expected, which is one hundred percent going to be Eggsy’s excuse as to why he’s currently sprawled on Harry’s three grand sofa like he owns the place, looking not in the least bit like the gentleman Kingsman expects him to be. The sprawling is only one aspect of Eggsy’s current look, completed by the head to toe trackies, the music rattling from the shitty speakers on his ancient phone and the half-empty can of Stella on the coffee table.

As was abundantly obvious from the very first time Eggsy was invited inside, Harry’s house is posh as fuck, and Harry himself has a habit of somehow making the whole place seem even classier by merely existing within it. Eggsy, on the other hand, is pretty sure the value of the house declines by association every time he sets foot through the door while wearing a tracksuit, which is why he usually just _doesn’t_ anymore, given that he has alternative options these days and everything. Like, he isn’t going to don a suit day in, day out unless he has to, but jeans and a casual shirt seems like the least he should aim for given Harry’s immaculate dress sense and the fact that Eggsy’s technically a guest here even if he seems to spend more time in this house than his own these days.

Harry had once said that the suit is a modern gentleman’s armour; if you’re a part of Kingsman then it literally is, being bulletproof and all. Even without the extras, there’s something about a quality suit that sends a message to the world, but when Eggsy’s watching telly round his house with his mum or taking Daisy out to the park – like today – these clothes right here are his armour. It’s what he knows and what feels most real, his identity and his camouflage.

“Sorry,” Eggsy says with a wince, taking his socked feet off the armrest and turning the music off as he sits up properly. “I wasn’t expecting you back yet, I’ll just go up and change, yeah?”

Harry merely stands in the doorway to the sitting room, umbrella in hand and wearing an unreadable expression. It’s a bit unnerving, sometimes, the way he can just cock his head slightly to one side and fix his gaze like he’s deep in thought, without in any way giving away what those thoughts might actually be.

“Nonsense, what you’re wearing is fine, Eggsy,” he says eventually, turning for a moment to place his umbrella in the stand in the hallway. “When I invite you to my home for - ” he continues, and then pauses like he hadn’t quite gotten as far as considering where the rest of that sentence was going.

“ - dinner and a quality shag?” Eggsy cuts in, trying for his most innocent expression. Harry acquires a look which suggests that it’s taking a physical effort on his part not to laugh just a little bit, and Eggsy gives him a filthy grin in return.

“For,” Harry says again, “ _non-work based socialising_ , then you can and should wear whatever you wish.”

 _Non-work based socialising_. Fucking hell, that’s a new one. Eggsy gives him a withering look at the first half of the sentence, and hesitates as he thinks over the second. “Nah,” he says, turning his phone over in his hands before sliding it into a pocket to keep from messing about with it. “I mean – it ain’t any bother. Feels like I’m making the place look untidy.”

“I would really rather that you didn’t,” Harry states pointedly with a small smile, regarding Eggsy over the rim of his glasses before taking them off and folding them away. “Change, I mean.”

Eggsy frowns, not even entirely sure that they’re still solely on the subject of clothing right now. Regardless, it’s always nice to be reassured that Harry has no issue with who Eggsy is underneath it all; ain’t no amount of lessons going to change the fundamentals anyway.

Harry’s still just looking at him, something fond there but also something _interested_ , even more so than usual, and it suddenly dawns on Eggsy what he’s been missing all along.

“Fuck _me_ ,” Eggsy grins at him. He should probably stop using that particular phrase as an exclamation of surprise, but it’s a force of habit and it’s entirely worth it for the way it always catches at Harry’s attention, something fleeting and intense in his expression before he suppresses it. “All this time I thought that you and me was like – _despite_ of me not talking proper an’ the fact that I never put on a suit in my entire fucking life before you had one made up for me, but that ain’t it, is it?” Eggsy says smugly, tilting his head slightly in consideration. He tongues at the inside of his cheek thoughtfully and doesn’t miss the way that Harry’s eyes subtly track the movement. “It’s _because_ of that. You love it when I ain’t bothered with any of that _gentleman_ stuff, you just want a bit of rough.”

“That’s a terrible thing to say,” Harry says mildly, hint of humour just under the surface, and doesn’t bother to clarify whether he’s commenting upon Eggsy’s reference to himself as _a bit of rough_ or denying the accusation. “Though admittedly,” he continues, unbuttoning his suit jacket, “there are arguably numerous activities which one may better enjoy _rough_.”

He turns neatly on his heel in order to disappear into the hall again to hang up his jacket, and Eggsy pouts; it’s so unfair, the way he can casually disarm with soft-uttered sentences disguised as something deep and meaningful which are, in actual fact, just thinly-veiled references to fucking. Probably. Generally when Eggsy tries to call him out on it, Harry pretends like he has no idea what Eggsy’s talking about; Eggsy might’ve failed GCSE French but he fucking well knows what a _double entendre_ is, thank you very much.

When Harry returns, he closes the door behind him with a quiet click but makes no move to sit down. Eggsy wishes he’d just get the fuck over here; they’ve been apart for five days and his fingers are itching to touch.

“I adore you, Eggsy, regardless of what you may – or may _not_ – be wearing,” Harry says gently, affection slipping into his tone. Eggsy sits up a bit straighter and attempts to look like he’s actively listening, because these sound a bit like Serious Relationship Words and Eggsy’s brain keeps zoning out while he imagines getting on his knees and giving Harry the blowjob of his life up against the sitting room door. “I must say you look very dashing in a suit,” Harry continues, and yes, those are definitely words, words which Eggsy should listen to, “and in fact I have never seen you looking anything less than handsome, but your current attire does suit you, very much so. The way you look right now, well – it reminds me of the first time I ever invited you here. In fact, I daresay I started to fall for you as I sat across from you in that little pub all that time ago.”

Christ, it’s like he wants Eggsy to die a mortified, compliment-induced death or something. When it comes down to it, he could accept Harry’s embarrassingly sweet words graciously, or he could continue being an obnoxious little shit to see where it gets him; option number two, Eggsy reckons, is almost always the more fun.

“What, you mean when you got me outta prison time for thieving a motor, an’ thought _bloody hell I’ll have a bit of that_ when you saw how fit I was?” he teases, and throws in a cheeky wink for good measure. “Harry Hart, do you get off on shagging _bad boys_?”

Harry regards him coolly, the tiniest hint of amusement in the tilt of his lips. He approaches the sofa with slow, measured strides, finally standing in front of Eggsy so he has to peer up at him, and strokes gentle fingers up the column of Eggsy’s throat so he’s forced to tilt his head back further in order to look at him properly. It’s so vulnerable a feeling despite the absolute implicit trust, baring his throat and swallowing; Harry’s hands are so tender and so absolutely laced with strength and power and the memory of missions that they make Eggsy want to go pliant and obedient at once, a shivery little tremble of arousal as Harry holds him in place with no effort at all.

“I thought it was a fact well-established, Eggsy,” Harry states calmly, his strong hand cupping at Eggsy’s jaw, warm fingers splayed out across his cheekbone, “that I very much prefer it when you’re being good.”

And _fuck_ , does Eggsy like being told how good he’s being. That can come later, though; right now he ain’t in the mood for _good_.

Harry’s thumb pulls across Eggsy’s jawline and comes to rest on his lower lip, tipping just inside where it turns hot and slick; holding his gaze, Eggsy angles forward a fraction to let it slip onto his tongue, sucking lightly before letting it slide out with a wet sound. Harry smoothes the pad of it across Eggsy’s lower lip like gloss, and then back again to rest in the middle as it had been before, feather-light and ridiculously fucking hot.

“Have you ever,” Eggsy breathes, mind turning over with all the things he wants to do as he places a hand on Harry’s hip and curls his index finger into one of his belt loops, “nicked a car and got your cock sucked in the backseat?”

Harry’s awfully good at not showing any obvious outward reaction to the things Eggsy says sometimes, but Eggsy’s learned his subtle tells by now; the minute flicker of something in his eyes, the quirk in the corner of his lips and the small hitch in his breath which otherwise remains even and steady. Eggsy bites down so lightly and so carefully on the end of Harry’s thumb, the tiniest scrape of teeth for a thrill of sensation, and watches Harry’s eyes bloom darker before releasing it.

“I must admit it’s not something I’ve had the fortune to experience,” Harry says, amused. “But I cannot condone you stealing other people’s property no matter how -- _enjoyable_ the outcome.”

Harry’s hand drops away smoothly, and Eggsy has to steady himself to keep from falling forwards like an idiot when he tries to follow the movement; grips at the edge of the sofa cushion instead for something to flex his fingers into as Harry smiles down at him.

“Aw, c’mon,” Eggsy smirks, holding his hands up innocently and trying to ignore the way his heart’s still hammering inside his ribcage. “I know _just_ the car, yeah? Belongs to a right proper dickhead, one of Dean’s crew. And I ain’t gonna damage it or nothing, we’ll just have our fun and put it back where we found it.”

There’s a long pause where the only sound is the ticking of the antique clock on the mantelpiece, and then Harry sighs the quiet sigh that means that Eggsy’s already won him over, and anything after this is a token attempt at an objection on Harry’s part. Fuck _yes_.

“And is this something you’re proposing we do right now, at this very instant?”

“Er, yeah?” Eggsy grins, raising his eyebrows. “It’s a Saturday night, them lot’ll all be on the piss and watching the footie highlights for the next few hours, I know exactly where it’ll be parked an’ all.”

“Alright,” Harry says long-sufferingly, like he’s fooling anybody. “I suppose you’ve convinced me.”

Eggsy’s gonna take him on the date of his fucking _life_. “Fuck yes, Harry, you legend,” he laughs, standing up and pulling him into a fleeting kiss, knees knocking together in the narrow space between sofa and coffee table. There’s a strong temptation there to turn it into something more, still very much wound up and wanting, but Eggsy’s a man on a mission now and he ain’t getting sidetracked for nothing or nobody. “Leave the jacket off, by the way, I ain’t going out on the rob with you in a full fucking suit.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth Eggsy braces himself for an enjoyable, sexually-charged lecture on who, exactly, he thinks he’s giving orders to, but apparently Harry’s even more wrapped around Eggsy’s little finger than he’d realised because he merely gives a nod of agreement and also removes his silk tie with graceful twists of his fingers, carefully rolling it so that it doesn’t get creased before folding his sleeves up to above his elbows. He’s always so -- _restrained_ in the way he undresses himself. It makes Eggsy want to hold him down and pull the buttons off his shirt one by one with his teeth.

“As you wish,” Harry says, gesturing to the door and finally having abandoned any pretence of disapproval. “Lead the way.”

Eggsy grabs his Kingsman-issue multitool pocketknife from the side table and brandishes it in Harry’s direction before pocketing it. “You are _not_ going to regret this.”

Harry’s singular raised eyebrow creates an expression which lies somewhere between dubious and turned on, which works just fine, really.

***

“Ah,” Harry says.

“Course, I had the keys last time,” Eggsy grins.

“Quite,” Harry nods. “Perhaps you might try driving it forwards, rather than backwards, on this occasion?”

Eggsy gives a cheerful shrug and pats the yellow paintwork. The car’s parked on a side street near the pub instead of directly outside after _someone_ got jumpy about having it nicked again in plain sight. Course, it’s now far easier to rob given that it’s that bit further from where they’re all getting pissed off their arses, but none of them lot has two brain cells to rub together, so.

The street’s deserted but the car’s directly under a lamppost, making what they’re doing blatantly obvious to anyone who happens to look out of their window or glance up the road from the junction. Luckily, Eggsy remembered to grab his Kingsman-issue watch on the way out, even if he’ll get the bollocking of his life if anyone other than Harry finds out he’s been using it not only for unofficial business, but actual honest-to-balls criminal activity.

Twisting the outer edge of the watch and pressing down a button with his thumb, he aims a laser beam at the light sensor on the lamp, holding it until the bulb eventually flickers and fades out to buy them a few much-needed minutes.

“Clever boy,” Harry murmurs, leaning against the side of the car with his arms folded, and Eggsy feels his face flush hot despite himself.

Eggsy continues to work in silence, Harry studying him curiously but not making any attempt to interfere. It’s a piece of piss, really, breaking in with all the extra tools he now has at his disposal; if he really wanted to put on a show he could’ve demonstrated all the various ways in which he knows how to nick cars for joyriding using nothing more than a small assortment of household objects, but it’s far too much effort for the same end result, really. Besides, it’s not like he keeps a crowbar just lying around in his bedroom. Anymore.

When the lock frees up enough to open the door, Eggsy slides half into the driver’s seat and pushes a miniature drill bit into the ignition, flicking the power switch on the gadget and carefully disabling the lock pins. Harry opens the passenger door and rests a hand atop it, staying outside for now and watching with interest. Eggsy’s pretty sure Harry knows exactly what Eggsy’s doing at any given point in the process, given that he knows everything ever, and assumes that his attention is less focused on the tasks being performed and more on the person performing them.

“Key switch’ll be fucked,” Eggsy tells him with a sly grin, sliding the gadget back into his pocket. “But he probably ain’t gonna realise for a bit. ‘Sides, it means I can drive it anytime I want to, with no keys or nothing.”

Harry smiles back at him like all of this is perfectly acceptable, because he’s a terrible fucking influence in as many ways as he’s an excellent one.

Taking out his penknife, Eggsy wiggles it into the ignition, twisting it gently until the engine starts. It’s been a while since he’s had the opportunity to drive outside of work, and there’s butterflies in his stomach at the thought of being able to mess about a bit like he hasn’t been able to in a long time.

Harry climbs in gracefully with a noble air about him as always, closing the door and carefully slotting his seatbelt into place like he’s sat in a Rolls Royce instead of a pimped-out Subaru.

Eggsy sits up straight, and primly takes hold of the steering wheel. “Where to, sir?” he asks, affecting his best posh accent.

“Wherever you like, my dear,” Harry says serenely, “wherever you like.”

Eggsy settles for a classic: generally dicking about. He does decide to drive like a normal person and not a complete yobbo for a bit, though, at least until they get out of the centre of the city; amnesia darts come in useful, but he’d rather just avoid interference by the coppers completely if he can manage it.

Finding the nearest dual carriageway where he knows there’s a camera-free stretch, he zips them down the fast lane at speed, the roads fairly deserted due to the late hour. During his time at Kingsman, Eggsy’s been in cars with more luxury than he’d ever even realised existed, but there’s something about this that somehow beats them all. The suspension’s gone half to shit so you can feel every bump in the road, the gearstick catches every time he wants to shift down into fourth, and every window-rattling second is perfection.

Each time he sneaks a glance at Harry he’s smiling in that quietly pleased way he has, watching Eggsy in profile; he so _obviously_ loves it. While they might be complete opposites in a lot of ways on the surface, Eggsy knows that Harry’s a rebellious fucker underneath it all just like he is, probably even more so. They’re alarmingly similar, really, with only their upbringing setting them on different paths and yet somehow causing them to collide later on regardless. Fate or summink, Eggsy reckons.

Taking a random exit off the next roundabout, there’s an Asda up ahead with a massive fuck-off carpark round the back that’s empty ‘cause it’s a Saturday night. It’s perfect for pulling off tricks and generally having a laugh so Eggsy pulls off the road and drives until they have the expanse of tarmac at their disposal.

“Ready?” Eggsy grins. Harry doesn’t ask him what for, merely curls his long fingers around the handle above the door and raises his eyebrows like he’s challenging Eggsy to show him what he can do.

Laughing with the sheer thrill of it, Eggsy revs the engine and pulls doughnuts over and over, spinning the car until he’s dizzy and can smell the tyres burning before he finally lets the wheels slide to a stop.

“Shit,” he grins, still breathless from it, “I’ve not done nothing like that in ages. You ever tried it?”

“I can’t say as I have,” Harry says, his eyes bright despite the semi-darkness. “Perhaps you could teach me sometime?”

“Fuck, yeah, course I will,” Eggsy says. It’s not often he gets to teach Harry stuff, but when he does it’s a lot of fun. “You want to see something else?”

 _Something else_ involves driving high speed figure-of-eights around the trolley parks in reverse, before driving forwards again in shallow loops and ending with a drift that takes them halfway across the car park.

“I’m very impressed,” Harry murmurs, shifting in his seat to face him better as soon as the car’s stationary again. Eggsy’s pulse is racing with no sign of slowing and he’s pretty sure it’s not entirely due to the exhilaration of driving.

“Oh, piss off,” Eggsy laughs. “It’s harder than it looks, that, y’know.”

Harry places a hand on Eggsy’s knee and gives him an amused little smile. “I was being entirely serious. You just performed some very difficult manoeuvres and maintained excellent control whilst doing so; you really do handle a car very well.”

“Oh,” Eggsy says. “Thanks?”

“You’re quite welcome,” Harry replies, voice taking on a deep, quiet intensity that makes Eggsy’s stomach flip with anticipation. “Now, I do believe that acquiring the car was only the first part of tonight’s plans?”

Eggsy allows his gaze fall to Harry’s lap for a moment, biting down on the corner of his lip and letting it slide between the sharp press of his teeth. “Mighta made some promises,” he shrugs, and leans over to press their lips together. Harry doesn’t hesitate in turning it filthy, slipping his tongue into Eggsy’s mouth with a satisfied hum as Eggsy curls his fingers into his shirt to pull him closer. Harry’s palm slides further up Eggsy’s thigh, warmth bleeding through the fabric, close but not close enough to where he wants it most.

Harry keeps on kissing him, unhurried and deep and drugging, until Eggsy has to pull away panting. Harry looks nothing more than mildly ruffled, taking a slow, measured breath as Eggsy sits back in his seat, which by Harry’s standards means he’s got to be at least half hard and a lot desperate.

“Fuck,” Eggsy mutters, releasing the handbrake and pulling the car around towards the exit. He glances over at Harry, looks him up and down and then regrets it because it’s a massive fucking effort to put his eyes back on the road again, Christ. “ _Fuck_ , I’m gonna drive us somewhere that _ain’t_ the middle of a car park and then I swear I’m gonna suck you so fuckin’ good you’re gonna wake up tomorrow hard and thinking ‘bout my mouth on you all over again.”

Harry makes no immediate comment, instead smoothing a palm carefully over the creases in his shirt left by Eggsy’s fingers. “I don’t doubt it,” he says calmly, and Eggsy just wants to _fuck_ him _up_. It’s got to be deliberate, the way he acts all unaffected while Eggsy feels like he’s spiralling out of control. “Do calm down, Eggsy,” Harry adds nonchalantly, looking out of the passenger window like he’s admiring the night-time scenery, “the car sounds _quite_ unhappy with you.”

It’s ‘cause Eggsy’s driving it at sixty miles an hour in third gear is why, and he wrenches it up to fifth with slightly more aggression than is truly necessary while making a mental note that driving while really turned on isn’t the easiest of tasks and should probably be avoided.

He pulls over a minute later along some dead-end track, the tyres crunching over gravel and then grass, a secluded spot with only the car headlights and the stars to see by.

“What d’you reckon?” Eggsy says, switching the engine off. “You up for a bit of outdoor action, then?”

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Harry turns to face him, leaning over the gearstick and murmuring _come here_ so firmly that Eggsy’s already half-kneeling up on the seat by the time he’s got the words out. Harry draws him in with a hand at the nape of his neck and Eggsy goes with it, groaning softly into the kiss as Harry wraps possessive fingers around his wrist; when Harry tries for gentle and teasing, Eggsy decides he’s having none of it and turns it immediately slick and heated, getting a warning nip of teeth on his lower lip for his trouble.

“Awfully impatient, aren’t you?” Harry murmurs, still close enough that they’re breathing the same air; Eggsy doesn’t have time to respond before Harry’s gently nudging Eggsy’s chin up with his knuckles until their lips brush together again. Jesus, Harry is _smooth_.

“Yeah, well,” Eggsy says when they eventually part, “been gone nearly a week, ain’t you? It’s been well boring without you around.”

Harry’s fingertips slide beneath the bottom of Eggsy’s hoodie, brushing softly over bare skin and dipping under into the waistband of his tracksuit bottoms for a moment before withdrawing because he’s the biggest fucking cocktease Eggsy’s ever met. “Well, I’m certainly pleased you think me so entertaining,” he teases.

“Nah, shut up, you know what I mean,” Eggsy says, corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile as he gets a hand on Harry’s knee and gives him a joking little shove; wants to say _I fucking missed you, yeah_ , but kisses him instead, sweet and fond, and lets the action speak on his behalf.

Harry gives this slow blink, smiling softly, and presses his mouth to Eggsy’s neck and the hollow of his throat, suave bastard that he is.

“Eggsy, are you not wearing anything underneath that hooded top of yours?” he frowns suddenly, fingers coming up to toy with the zip before sliding it down a couple of inches to expose Eggsy’s bare chest.

Eggsy flashes him a filthy grin and sits back in his seat, sprawled back against the door as much as the cramped space allows. “I had a shower at yours and couldn’t be arsed to put on any more’n this.” He lets his legs splay apart and slips a hand inside his trackies to adjust himself blatantly while Harry watches. “You want to know what else I ain’t wearing under here?”

“I think I could hazard a guess,” Harry remarks, all barely-suppressed _heat_. “Though arousing as that may be for me, I can’t quite believe that you would be so shameless as to leave the house like that.”

“Believe whatever, I’m just statin’ facts,” Eggsy smirks. Slotting their fingers together, he draws Harry’s hand across to press over the obvious outline of his cock and _fuck_ that’s good; Eggsy lets his head tip back against the window with a quiet _thunk_ , and when his own hand slides away Harry’s stays right where Eggsy put it, feeling out the shape of Eggsy’s cock with his palm as Eggsy gives an encouraging groan.

Eggsy presses his hips up, seeking more friction, and Harry applies gentle, glorious pressure with the heel of his hand as he leans in to mouth over Eggsy’s neck and the tender spot behind his ear until Eggsy’s breathing goes ragged, every part of him feeling sensitive and needy.

“Jesus _fuck_ , Harry,” Eggsy shudders as Harry thumbs aside Eggsy’s hoodie to touch his mouth to the place where neck meets shoulder, a thumb hooking into the hollow of his collarbone. The fingers of his other hand drag teasingly up the length of Eggsy’s cock which has the added effect of shifting soft fabric over the head, an overload of sensation; his cock jerks against Harry’s hand, wet seeping through where he leaks an excited little pulse of precome, and Harry breathes a soft, _oh_ sound against Eggsy’s ear.

Harry draws back in his seat, something hungry and wanting in his gaze as he takes in the way Eggsy’s panting and wide-eyed, warm flush spreading down his chest under his hoodie.

“You look positively wrecked,” Harry says, so deep that Eggsy wants to shiver with it; wants to beg him to keep talking and never stop. “I’ve barely even touched you and already you’re looking at me like you’re desperate for me to fuck you.”

It’s ridiculous, the tremor of arousal that slides through Eggsy and settles somewhere deep in response to Harry’s words and all of his clipped, measured composure, but fuck, Eggsy’s so fucking _gone_ for him, he can’t even find it in him to be surprised.

Still, though, if Harry wants casual dirty talk, Eggsy can give as good as he gets; Harry’s just as up for it as Eggsy is, he’s just better at hiding it, is all.

“Want you to fuck my mouth,” Eggsy retaliates, something petulant and demanding in there that makes Harry’s eyes darken. Eggsy folds his arms and shrugs a bit, quirking a brow. “I think you should get out of this fucking car right now so I can show you the kind of thing I’ve been thinking ‘bout this week while you fucked off and left me to wank myself off every night.”

“How very cruel of me to leave you to take matters into your own hands for the better part of a week,” Harry mocks, teasing hint of a smile despite his tone. “I’m terribly sorry that you’re so _utterly_ spoiled that you’re unable to cope without me.”

Eggsy pouts and tries to think of a half-decent response, but he’s still hard and properly desperate and his brain’s not really engaged right now. “Just – get out the car,” he mutters eventually, and Harry’s so horribly smug that Eggsy can’t wait to wipe the look off his stupid, handsome face.

Harry’s barely had time to climb out of the passenger side and close the door before Eggsy’s _on_ him, shoving him up against the side of the car and kissing him, up on his toes so he can fit their hips together.

“I know I said I was gonna suck you in the backseat and all,” Eggsy tells him, leaning in for a quick, really quite _bitey_ kiss, “but I’d rather be out here and on my knees, if it’s all the same to you.”

Harry makes a rough sound low in his throat when Eggsy gropes at his erection through his perfectly-tailored suit trousers. Grinning, Eggsy drops to his knees, hands on Harry’s thighs.

Making no move for anything more for the time being, Harry cards gentle fingers through Eggsy’s hair and looks down at him like he’s something pretty to admire; it always makes Eggsy want to blush like a fucking idiot, warmed from the inside out by the intensity of Harry’s gaze.

“Have I told you yet how unbearably gorgeous you look tonight?” Harry says softly, his fingers sliding down the back of Eggsy’s neck and scratching lightly through the short hairs there.

“No. Have I told you that I think you look fit as fuck, and I wish you’d hurry up and get your cock out so I can actually give you the blowie I keep promising instead of talking about it?”

It might be half-dark, not much light to see by, but Eggsy doesn’t miss the way Harry rolls his eyes. “ _Spoiled_ ,” Harry states, and reaches for his belt buckle. It’s slightly alarming how quickly Eggsy’s mouth starts watering in reaction to Harry neatly flicking the clasp open, sleek metal on elegantly crafted leather. “If you’re going to be quarrelsome and rude about it then I shan’t let you have anything at all.”

“Yeah, whatevs, we both know that’s a lie,” Eggsy mumbles distractedly, unbuttoning Harry’s trousers for him and drawing the fly down. He tugs them down along with Harry’s boxers just enough to free his cock, and it should probably be Harry rather than Eggsy who breathes a contented sigh, but fuck – it’s just so _nice,_ innit, the best fucking thing.

Eggsy gives it a slow, squeezing stroke from base to tip, rubbing a thumb over the slit and the wetness that’s gathered there to make Harry’s breath catch.

“Oh, and Eggsy?” Harry says, touching his fingers to Eggsy’s wrist when Eggsy wets his lips and leans forward. “Do try not to drool excessively on my good trousers.”

Eggsy pauses and gives him a pissed-off scowl, because honestly, you get on your knees for a bloke and he stops you from doing your best work.

“Thought you _liked_ it sloppy?” he retorts, smirking up at him when Harry makes a quiet, bitten-off sound, hips stuttering forward a fraction in a momentary loss of control.

“Very true,” Harry says, a hint of breathlessness about it which Eggsy takes as a personal achievement. “But given that we’re out in public and we still need to both return the car and then head back home I’d rather look presentable.”

“If you say so,” Eggsy sighs, and lets the crown of Harry’s cock rub against the swell of his lower lip before sliding his mouth down to meet his fingers and sucking lightly with a satisfied groan because _at-fucking-last_. Harry exhales shakily, the fingers at the base of Eggsy’s neck twitching and then stroking encouragingly as Eggsy starts up a steady rhythm.

He loves everything about this, from the ache in his jaw to the feeling of power as he takes Harry apart using his hands and mouth, his own cock throbbing untouched for now in his trackies. Course, it’s more fun when Harry _really_ lets him go to town, wet and messy with spit-slick knuckles, but it’s still enjoyable as fuck regardless.

Pulling back a bit, he allows the head to drag across the soft inside of his cheek and then chases the tip with his tongue, moaning softly at the bitter-sharp taste he finds there.

“Your mouth is exquisite,” Harry murmurs, maintaining unwavering eye contact throughout. Eggsy glows under the praise, and gives a muffled groan in return that he hopes conveys words to the effect of the _ta bruv, your cock’s nice n’all_ that he can’t quite say with his mouth stuffed full.

Harry’s fingers slide into his hair and tighten, pulling just a bit in a way that sparks straight to Eggsy’s cock; he gives Eggsy a questioning look, waiting for permission, and Eggsy lets his mouth go slack, resting both hands in his lap and blinking up at him calmly to let him know that he can have at it.

The first careful thrust inside, Eggsy keeps his mouth open – lets Harry watch his cock slide over his tongue – and from that point onward closes his lips around him and lets Harry control the movement, alternating between holding Eggsy in place and fucking into his mouth, and settling his weight back against the car and nudging Eggsy forward onto his cock with firm fingers.

“Mmmf _fuck_ ,” Eggsy mumbles, on a particularly nice forward thrust where he can actually _feel_ Harry thicken in his mouth, impossibly hard; it’s too much, he _can’t_ , and has to fumble a hand inside his trackies to close his fingers around his own cock. Like this, he can wank himself off in time with the slide of his mouth, something brilliantly filthy about it.

“Are you touching yourself?” Harry asks curiously, and he pulls Eggsy back gently by the hair until his cock slips out of his mouth, connected by a string of saliva in the scant millimetres between. Eggsy keeps perfectly still, careful not to let Harry’s cock drip onto his beautifully-shined Oxfords, and uses his tongue to catch it as he sits back.

“Mm, yeah, was I not s’posed to?” Eggsy says, keeping up his rhythm on Harry’s cock with one hand but stilling the movement on his own.

“By all means,” Harry breathes as Eggsy flicks his tongue over the slit and gives him a filthy, pleased look, “I simply couldn’t see from here. The knowledge that you are, however, is very -- _stimulating_ , I must say.”

Eggsy gives himself a couple of rough tugs for Harry’s benefit, swearing under his breath, and presses his mouth to the sensitive inside of Harry’s thigh, working his way up until he can fully take his cock into his mouth again. Harry flattens his hands to the side of the car and gives Eggsy the freedom to do as he likes, his breath coming quicker now in a way that hints that he’s getting close.

Eggsy lets the head of his cock scrape the roof of his mouth, pushing into the back of his throat so he can control the way he gags on it; his mouth gets wetter in response to the intrusion, hot and slick, and he swallows it down, Harry’s fingers curling against metal and glass.

“Shame you ain’t up for sloppy,” Eggsy says idly, coming up for air and giving him a couple of lazy strokes with his hand, tilting his chin so he can get a proper good look at Harry’s face. “I woulda let you nut on my face and everything.”

Harry’s reaction to that is fucking beautiful; there’s this tightness in his jaw for a moment as he bites down on the inside of his cheek, nostrils flaring, and when his cock twitches in Eggsy’s hand Harry goes tense, like he’s holding back and trying to regain control of himself. He brushes the backs of his fingers over Eggsy’s cheek, looking at him intently and taking these quiet, deep breaths that shake on every inhale.

“Best not,” Harry says eventually, voice tight; he makes it sound like it’s an effort to say it at all, like he’s wishing he had an excuse to break his own rules.

“Another time then,” Eggsy smirks, and slides both hands under Harry’s shirt, holding him in place by the hips and swallowing him down deep enough that he almost chokes on it, all quick, tight suction to finish him off.

“ _Eggsy_ ,” Harry breathes, a gentle hand cupping Eggsy’s neck. Eggsy scrapes blunt fingernails across Harry’s waist and there’s a warning squeeze from Harry’s fingers, a soft-murmured _fuck_ before he starts to spill down Eggsy’s throat.

Eggsy swallows thickly, pulling off torturously slowly to milk him dry, and blinks up at Harry with feigned innocence as he does so. Harry sags back against the car slightly, his usually perfect posture relaxed while he regains his composure.

Sitting back on his heels, Eggsy tucks him carefully back into his trousers and grins up at him, and Harry offers him a hand to pull him onto unsteady feet. Drawing Eggsy’s hand to his mouth, he brushes his lips to the inside of Eggsy’s wrist and the back of his knuckles, and fuck if it doesn’t make Eggsy go weak at the knees a bit.

“Beautifully done, as always,” Harry smiles, still holding Eggsy’s hand. Eggsy lives for these post-blowjob performance reviews, he really does. “And you even did as I asked; you didn’t spill a single drop.”

“Yep,” Eggsy says, “even after you called me spoiled and everything.” His throat feels rough, well-fucked, voice rasping hoarse around the edges.

Harry places a hand on Eggsy’s hip to guide him around, lazily reversing their positions in order to press Eggsy up against the side of the car. “Did I?” Harry says lightly, sliding a hand into Eggsy’s tracksuit bottoms and wrapping his fingers around his cock. “How horrid of me. I trust you’ll be able to forgive me?”

“You keep doing that and I’ll let you off, yeah?” Eggsy assures him, breaking off into a gasp as Harry lets the hollow of his palm twist over the head of his cock. Harry knocks Eggsy’s legs further apart with his foot, pressing in close, and Eggsy’s eyes practically roll back for a moment with how good it feels.

There’s a moment where Harry slides a finger and thumb around the base and squeezes, and his cock properly _throbs_ , pulsing hot in Harry’s hand. “You’re so very, very hard for me,” Harry murmurs, satisfied-sounding, and then kisses Eggsy so thoroughly that he feels lightheaded from it.

“Fuck, Harry,” Eggsy gasps, and feels for the car door handle, encouraging Harry back with a hand on his chest so he can open the door. “I’d let you fuck me but I ain’t brought anything – we can still have a bit of fun in the backseat, though, you get me?”

He gives Harry a dirty once-over, smirking at him, and then slides into the seats. Lying back, he pulls Harry on top of him in the narrow space, between where Eggsy’s got one knee bent and pressed to the backrest and the other in the footwell.

“What would you like from me?” Harry asks, so close that Eggsy can feel his breath against his throat, the curve of his lips when he smiles and kisses Eggsy’s neck. “I can’t quite get my mouth on you from here.”

“Fuck,” Eggsy shivers, the thought of it enough; Harry gives _really_ good head, sucks dick like a pro, but that can wait for another day. It wasn’t what he had in mind anyway.

Eggsy shifts a bit so he can fit the hard line of his cock against Harry’s hip, grinding up against him for a bit of friction. “This works, yeah?”

Harry brushes his lips to Eggsy’s temple before dipping lower, breathing into his ear like he does when they’re mid-fuck, and it’s so stupidly hot that Eggsy has to close his eyes for a second to ride out the shivery wave of pleasure that follows.

“You’re going to get me awfully worked up again, if you’re not careful,” Harry murmurs darkly, barely more than a whisper and still held close like it’s a secret, “spreading your legs for me and writhing around underneath me like that.”

“Don’t care,” Eggsy gasps, hips bucking upwards only for Harry to pin him down with his own, effortless strength behind it. “Want you to fuck me when we get home anyway.”

Harry presses his hips down harder to make Eggsy groan. “Do you think you can wait until we reach the bedroom, this time?” he says dryly, looking down at him with his eyebrows raised. “Your knees, last I saw of them, were in a state quite unbecoming of a gentleman.”

Pretty rude, Eggsy reckons, given that Harry’s as much to blame as he is; he could say _no_ every now and then when Eggsy initiates rough shagging in carpeted areas of the house, given he’s supposed to be the sensible one in this relationship and everything. He thinks about saying as much, but Harry’s probably already got a witty response at the ready because he’s annoying like that.

“Fine,” Eggsy concedes, “whatever, s’pose I’ll let you take me to bed. What you gonna do with me when you’ve got me there, then?”

He rolls his hips up against Harry in a lazy circle and Harry leans into it idly, looking thoughtful. “I should think that I’ll turn you onto your front, to start. You do so enjoy it, after all.”

Enjoy it is the understatement of the fucking century; Harry can fuck for _ages_ like that, these long, steady thrusts with his weight pressing Eggsy into the bed until the friction’s too much and Eggsy comes groaning, Harry fucking him through it and then keeping at him until he’s fully hard again.

“Then I may put you on your back, like this,” he continues, hoisting Eggsy’s legs up so his knees drag against Harry’s sides each time Harry rocks against him like he’s fucking him proper. There’s something nasty and altogether fucking brilliant about spreading your legs for someone in the backseat of a car, Eggsy reckons. “I don’t think I’ll let you touch, though.”

“Dunno if I can keep my hands to myself,” Eggsy groans, pulling at Harry’s shirt so he can slide a hand underneath; he feels out the slope of his hip, the toned, flexing muscles of his back and makes a quiet noise of frustration when Harry removes his hand again with a pointed look.

“You can,” Harry says firmly, rocking against Eggsy that bit harder to hear him bite back a whimper, “and you will, if I take both of your wrists in one of my hands like so, and pin them in place whilst I take you as hard as I see fit.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eggsy sighs, docile in Harry’s grip, not coherent enough for anything more because he can’t quite get his head together when Harry pushes his buttons like that. It hadn’t taken Harry very long to discover how much Eggsy gets off on it, being held down and fucked hard enough to hit the bed against the wall, and he has a terrible knack for using Eggsy’s weaknesses against him when it comes to dirty talk.

Eggsy’s really starting to regret his decision not to bring any condoms or lube for a quick backseat fuck, gagging for it now that Harry’s talked him through it. Frankly, he’s seconds away from just begging Harry to just put it in anyway; Eggsy could suck him all the way hard again till he’s slicked up and dripping with it, and they wouldn’t even have to do it _proper_ , like, Harry could just coax him open with spit-wet fingertips, just enough to work the head inside as a slow tease, and --

\-- it’s all just fantasy really, ‘cause Harry would say no and Eggsy’s gonna come before they’d even manage it anyway. If he was close before then he’s really on edge now, the idea of it making him ache for more.

Harry releases Eggsy’s wrists so he can prop himself up properly over him on his hands, but Eggsy has neither the energy nor the desire to move his hands from over his head. Kissing him, hard, Harry’s usually perfect hair is starting to fall out of place in dishevelled strands, and he looks so attractive like this that it drives Eggsy absolutely mental that this is his life now, that he’s got it so fucking good.

“Fuck, get your hand on me, will you?” Eggsy gasps. He hasn’t even taken his trackies down yet and he’s about ready to lose it.

Harry, at least, has the foresight to ruck Eggsy’s hoodie up a bit so he won’t make quite such a mess, or maybe he’s just taking the opportunity to perv on Eggsy’s well fit abs, but either way Eggsy appreciates the gesture. Everything’s getting so fucking _hot_ , sweat pricking down his spine and chest flushed pink, Harry’s hand warm and firm around his cock.

“Perhaps, in the morning,” Harry says vaguely, his fist pulling tightly along the length of Eggsy’s cock, smearing wet over the head, “I’ll let you fuck me instead.”

It with that that Eggsy comes – not some screaming-bright full-body thing slamming into him, more like being pulled gently over the edge of something, a rise and fall of shuddering pleasure expanding outwards from the hot grip of Harry’s palm that knocks the air from his lungs.

He’s still panting, trying to catch his breath, when Harry slides the back of one smooth thumbnail along the vein on the underside of Eggsy’s cock so he spills more, the last few drops falling sticky-hot over Harry’s fingers, giving it up with a quiet groan that breaks off when his thighs start to tremble a bit with oversensitivity.

“Fuck me, s’good,” Eggsy slurs after a few moments of stillness and silence, stretching out underneath Harry, gone boneless and relaxed as anything now he’s come.

“Indeed,” Harry says. “Don’t move.”

He carefully wipes Eggsy clean with a handkerchief before folding it neatly inside another, clean one so he can place it back in his trouser pocket. Eggsy’s never entirely sure where he procures all these handkerchiefs from, like some kind of sophisticated sex magician, but they’re well good when it comes to post-shag clean-ups. Maybe Eggsy doesn’t keep entirely still, and maybe he accidentally-on-purpose rubs a bit of come into the upholstery, but Harry merely gives him a conspiratorial smile and says nothing.

Helping him out of the backseat, Harry kisses him slow and affectionate before they climb back into their respective seats in the front. It’s always fascinating watching Harry put himself back together – neatening his clothes, carefully rearranging his hair – and Eggsy watches shamelessly, still buzzing with the warm, relaxed feeling that comes after a good shag combined with the thrill of knowing there’s more to come later.

“Oi, Harry?” Eggsy says, looking over at him with a small smile as he shifts into first gear and releases the clutch. “D’you want to go an’ get some Maccy D’s, yeah? And after that we’ll ditch the car and y’can take me back to yours and give me a proper good seeing to?”

Harry’s hand rests over Eggsy’s on the gearstick for a moment, thumb rubbing fondly over his wrist.

“Eggsy,” Harry says warmly, “that sounds absolutely delightful.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr [link](http://hollybennett123.tumblr.com/post/126042947938), for if you like tumblin' stuff: :D


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